Provenance
by Dede42
Summary: When a couple is mysteriously killed in their home and Sam discovers that this has happen according to their father's journal, the Winchesters head to upstate New York to find out what is the cause. Can the Winchesters stop this threat before they become victims, too?
1. Chapter 1: A CREEPY PAINTING

Supernatural: Provenance

A/N: I return with a new story involving a _very_ creepy painting that leads to a lot of deaths; this one does seem quite proper for the Halloween season when you think about it. Anyway, on with the show!

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or from _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: A CREEPY PAINTING**

It was nearly midnight when Mark Telesca placed a painting of a rather creepy dark family just above the fireplace while his wife, Anne, watched; the painted family consisted of a father, looking down at his daughter, who was holding a doll. A mother sat by her two sons, and on the table in the painting sat an open straight razor.

"Okay, right about there," he said, straightening the painting until it was even. "I think that's it."

Anne laughed, and was clearly drunk. "I can't believe we actually bought this thing."

Mark smiled and pulled her close after stepping away from the fireplace. "There's a reason charity auctions have an open bar."

Anne frowned at the painting. "Don't you think, I don't know, it's kind of…creepy?"

"It's okay," Mark said reassuringly as he moved his hand slowly down her back and she laughed. "I'll keep you safe."

"Maybe you're the one I ought to be scared of," Anne teased and they kissed passionately. "Let's go upstairs."

"Give me two minutes to lock up," Mark requested and they kissed again. "Make that one minute," he amended

Anne laughed and moved to the stairs. Smiling, Mark stayed and turned off the lights; while his back was turned, the father in the painting moved his head slightly, seemingly watching Anne as she walked upstairs, and the man's head turned again, just a bit, and now seemed to be watching Mark as he walked to the front door. While he was locking it, he felt a presence in the air and looked around uncomfortably; seeing nobody, he shut off the rest of the lights.

* * *

Meanwhile, Anne came out of the bathroom, wearing a nightgown and bathrobe; with a lit candle in her hand, she took off her robe, set the candle on the bedside table, and crawled into bed.

* * *

Downstairs, Mark input a code into the alarm system by the front door.

Unaware to Mark, someone or something walked up the stairs with an odd thumping sound.

* * *

"If you don't hurry up," Anne called out from the bed, "I'm gonna start without you."

* * *

'_I doubt that,'_ Mark thought, walking to the stairs; as he passed the painting, the razor from the table was gone.

* * *

Upstairs, the door opened, and the shadow of someone entering appeared on the floor and the candle on the table blew out.

* * *

Mark undid his belt as he walked up the stairs.

* * *

Mark entered the bedroom and took off his shirt and pants so that he was only wearing his boxers.

"Babe, get the lights. I can't see a thing," he mumbled, bending down to kiss Anne, but stopped when something squished under his hands. "You spill somethin'?" he asked, straightening up and turned on a nearby lamp, discovering blood on his hand. "Anne?"

He gasped because Anne was lying in bed, her throat slashed, and there was an expression of shock and terror frozen on her face; she and the bed were completely covered in blood.

"Anne! Anne!"

He stepped backwards and tripped, falling to the floor, and a shadow was looming over him; he looked up and screamed.

* * *

Dean was at the bar, putting the number of an attractive young woman into his cell phone. "All right, you're in there. Perfect. Oh, is that Brandy with a "y" or an "i"?" he asked, grinning.

Sitting at a nearby table, Sam was leafing through their father's journal while Liz sat across from him, looking through several newspapers; finding something, he picked up a newspaper that was next to him, and noticed the headline, "Couple's Throats Slashed in Own Home".

"Look at this, Liz," he said, handing her the paper, and noted how her eyebrows raised, and he waved over to Dean, who ignored him. Exchanging an annoyed look with his sister, Sam waved again, and Dean, noticing, rolled his eyes.

"All right, listen, I gotta go," Dean told the lady. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?" He took three beers and sat down at the table next to his twin sister.

Sam had the newspaper in his hands again. "All right, so, I think we got somethin'."

"Oh, yeah. Me, too," Dean agreed, not really listening as he glanced back at the bar. "I think we need to take a little shore leave for just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one." And he pointed to the girl at the bar, who was joined by her friend.

"So, what are we today, Dean?" Sam asked, exasperated while Liz rolled her eyes. "Are we rock stars? Are we army rangers?"

"Reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills," Dean answered and Sam laughed while Liz groaned, calling them both dweebs. "I mean, hey, it's not that far off, right?" he added, ignoring Liz's grumblings. "By the way, she's got a friend over there. I could probably hook you up, what do you think? Maybe she knows a guy that I can hook you up with, too, Liz," he added.

Liz glared at him. "Dean, the last time _you_ hook me up with someone, I had to break the jerk's nose in order to keep his hands off of me."

Sam shook his head, bemused. "Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, you can, but you don't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Nothin'. What do you got?" he asked.

"Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago," Sam asked.

Dean wasn't even listening. "Mmhmm." And he was still staring at the girls by the bar.

"Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons – Dean," Sam snapped, realizing that his big brother wasn't even listening, and Liz had to jab her twin's ribs with her elbow; Dean glared at her and then turned to look at him. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors and windows were locked from the inside."

Dean took the newspaper and glanced at the article. "Could just be a garden-variety murder, you know, not our department. Heck, I think we should let the BAU team know about this."

"Can't," said Liz, "they're working a case down in Mexico right now. Apparently there's a serial killer going after old women according to Garcia."

Sam shook his head. "And Dad's journal says different."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Look," Sam said, turning the journal to them. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York," he explained, pointing to some notes on the page. "First one, right here, 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas - the throats were slit, and the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we got one," Dean concluded, exchanging a look with Liz, who nodded.

Sam also nodded. "Exactly."

"All right, I'm with ya. It's worth checkin' out," Dean agreed, much to the relief of Sam and Liz. "We can't pick this up till the first thing, though, right?" he asked, throwing them both with the sudden change of subject.

Sam shared a confused look with Liz. "Yeah."

"Good," Dean said, getting up and walked back over to the bar.

Realizing what Dean meant, Liz sighed. "Sam, I don't think we're going anywhere tonight." And Sam nodded.

"Ladies, did you miss me?" Dean asked, joining the two ladies.

Both women nodded. "Yeah."

Dean laughed. "I'm just kidding. Listen, I talked to my producer, and, uh, it is lookin' good."

Sam laughed as he watched Dean while Liz groaned, wishing that she was somewhere else right now.

* * *

The next morning, Dean was sitting in the passenger seat of the parked car, sleeping. Sam, who had just left the Telesca home with Liz, returned to the car and honked the horn loudly.

Dean jumped and woke up while both Sam and Liz laughed, and got in the car. "Man, that is so not cool," he complained, his head pounding from a nasty hangover.

"We just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It's clean," Sam informed him. "And last night, while you were-" he rolled his eyes while Liz snorted "-out…"

Dean smiled fondly. "Good times."

"I took the history of the house," Sam continued. "No hauntings, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telescas themselves either."

Dean frowned, thinking it over. "All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house, then, uh…maybe it's the contents, a cursed object or somethin'.

Sam shook his head. "The house is clean."

This time Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, you said that."

"No, I mean, it's empty," Sam added. "No furniture, nothin'."

"And really clean," Liz also added. "Not a speck of dust anywhere…or even blood."

"Where's all their stuff?" Dean asked, confused.

* * *

After getting some help from Penelope Garcia, it wasn't long before the Winchesters parked the dusty Impala next to some _very_ expensive cars that looked brand new and newly washed.

* * *

The owner, Daniel Blake, was talking with an older woman about some of the items being auctioned when he saw the Winchesters entered and was irritated as he didn't approve of walk-ins or even those who weren't properly dressed, in his mind anyway; he excused himself from the conversation and walked away. At another area of the room, Dean, Liz, who was wishing they'd at least changed their outfits before entering the place to something to make them blend in, and Sam were looking around at the items.

"Silent auctions, estate sales," Dean grumbled, "it's like a garage sale for W.A.S.P.s, if you ask me." He did quiet down when he saw several trays of food, which he helped himself to as he couldn't resist free food, and put some in his mouth when Daniel approached them.

"Can I help you, gentlemen, miss?" he asked curtly and they turned to face him.

"I'd like some champagne, please," Dean requested with his mouth full, and almost choked when Liz discreetly stomped on his foot when it was obvious that Daniel was offended.

Sam repressed a groan. "He's not a waiter," he said quietly, leaving Dean slightly embarrassed at his goof. "I'm Sam Connors," he said, introducing himself and extending his hand to Daniel, who looked at it but didn't shake it. Sam, slightly thrown off, nodded to both Dean and Liz. "This is my brother, Dean and my sister Elizabeth. We are art dealers with Connors Limited," he added.

"You're art dealers?" Daniel asked, skeptical.

Sam nodded. "That's right."

"I'm Daniel Blake. This is my auction house," Daniel informed them curtly. "Now, gentlemen, miss, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."

Sam was about to speak, but Dean cut in.

"We're there, Chuckles," Dean said, still eating. "You just need to take another look." Both Sam and Liz gave their brother scandalized looks, just as a waiter carrying a tray of champagne passed them, and he took a glass. "Oh, finally." He turned back to Daniel and sniffed the champagne before walking away.

"Cheers," Sam said weakly as he and a frustrated Liz followed their brother.

"I'm _so_ going to kill Dean," Liz hissed, glaring at her twin's back.

"Wait until after the case," Sam suggested, but was feeling the same way, know Dean to cause trouble with the locals, and drag both of them with him. It was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

The Winchesters continued to look around; after a few moments, they noticed of the painting from the Telesca home. Exchanging a look, they walked over to it and began to examine it. A moment later, they heard a female voice from above, belonging to Sarah Blake.

"A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?" she asked, drawing their attention to her as she walked down the circular stairs from the second floor, wearing an elegant black dress. Sam was instantly taken by her and was also momentarily confused at her comment; Dean hit him on the shoulder, obviously thinking she was attractive, giving him a chance to recover while Liz repressed a snicker.

"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses," Sam said, recovering his voice when she joined them, and she looked at the ground bashfully. "But you knew that. You just wanted to see if I did," he added.

"Guilty," Sarah admitted. "And clumsy, I apologize." While they were talking, Dean took more food off a passing tray and Liz rolled her eyes, exasperated. "I'm Sarah Blake," she added, extended her hand, and Sam shook it.

"I'm Sam. This is my-" Sam began, turning to see that Dean had his mouth full again "brother, Dean, and my sister Liz," he finished, sighing while Liz moaned.

Sarah gave the older Winchester an inquiring look. "Dean?"

Dean smiled at her. "Mm?"

"Can we get you some more mini-quiche?" she asked, referring to what he was currently eating.

Dean shook his head, his mouth still full. "Mm-mm, I'm good, thanks."

Bemused, Sarah turned back to Sam while Liz hissed at Dean to knock it off. "So, can I help you with something?" she asked, ignoring the sparring match going on behind her now.

"Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?" Sam asked skillfully.

"The whole thing's pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling their things this soon," Sarah said sadly. "But, Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds - even the rich ones." And both she and Sam shared a smile, which neither Dean or Liz missed; it was obvious to the twins that there was a definite connection between their little brother and Sarah.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam requested and Sarah was about to speak, but she was interrupted by her father coming up to them, scowling.

"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that," he said curtly.

"Why not?" Sam asked, exchanging a wary look with Liz, and both were hoping that Dean would keep his mouth shut, or at least too full of food to talk.

"You're not on the guest list," Daniel snapped. "And I think it's time to leave."

Unfortunately for Sam and Liz, Dean spoke up. "Well, we don't have to be told twice."

Daniel glared at him. "Apparently, you do."

"Okay, it's all right," Sam said quickly. "We don't want any trouble. We'll go," he added as Liz pushed Dean back toward the entrance; after sharing a sad look with Sarah, Sam followed them.

"Dad, that was rude," Sarah scolded, but it was obvious that her dad didn't care as he ignored her and went back to mingle with the rich guests that _had_ been invited.

* * *

A few hours later, Dean, Liz, and Sam got their bags from the car and walked to the door of the motel room.

"Grant Wood? Grandma Moses?" Dean repeated, confused. "What?"

"Art history course," Sam answered. "It's good for meetin' girls."

"I bet it is," Liz joked.

Dean shook his head sadly. "It's like I don't even know you." And he opened the door.

The Winchesters entered and looked around at the deco as Dean turned the lights on; the room was designed around a seventies theme, and it was covered in disco-patterned wallpaper, and most of the furniture was chrome.

"Huh."

They moved to the beds, unfazed by the room, and began unpacking their things.

"What was it, the providence?" Dean asked, getting the word wrong.

"Provenance," Sam corrected and Dean mouthed the word, trying to pronounce it while Liz snickered. "It's a certificate of origin, like a biography, you know?" he added. "We can use 'em to check the history of the pieces, see if anything's got a freaky past."

Dean was impressed. "Huh. Well, we're not gettin' anything out of Chuckles, but, uh, Sarah?" He smirked and Liz giggled.

Sam rolled his eyes, wishing that his brother would get his brain out of the gutter more often. "Yeah. Maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin," he teased.

Liz burst out laughing while Dean chuckled.

"Not me," he said slyly.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Sam protested quickly. "Pickups are your thing, Dean."

Dean smirked while Liz had to sit down on the bed as she continued laughing. "It wasn't my butt she was checkin' out."

Sam flushed. "In other words, you want me to use her to get information."

"Sometimes, you gotta take one for the team," Dean declared, holding out his cell phone to his little brother. "Call her." And Sam reluctantly took the phone, suddenly wishing that _he_ was somewhere else right now.

* * *

That night, Sam and Sarah were seated at a table, dressed in formal clothing, and the atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable for them both.

"Nice place," Sam said half-heartedly.

Sarah nodded nervously. "Yeah." And they were silent as the waiter served them glasses of water. "Glad you called. Surprised, but glad," she added, not voicing the fact that she'd been worried that her dad had scared them off for good.

Sam was surprised. "Yeah?"

"Although you seemed to have trouble getting out the words, "Would you like to have dinner?" Sarah stated and he laughed, flushing as he recalled the phone call earlier, which had almost been a disaster in itself.

"Yeah. I haven't really been on a date in a while," Sam admitted sheepishly.

Sarah smiled. "Welcome to the club."

Sam stared at her, once again surprised. "You're kidding me."

Sarah honestly shook her head; just then, the waiter returned to their table and handed them two menus.

"Here we are."

"Thanks," said Sarah.

"The wine list," the waiter said, handing a smaller menu to Sam.

Suddenly nervous, Sam took it and looked through it, without the slightest idea what he was doing.

Sarah was able to sense his awkwardness. "I don't know about Romeo here, but I'll have a beer," she requested and Sam smiled, silently relieved.

The waiter nodded and looked at Sam. "And you?"

"Make that two," Sam added, glad that he didn't have to risk choosing a wine that would turn out to be horrible since he knew absolutely nothing about that sort of stuff._ 'Talk about being saved by the bell.'_

The waiter nodded and took back the wine list. "Certainly."

* * *

A few hours later, the tension had faded and both Sam and Sarah were already on having a third round of beers.

"So, you studied art in school, huh?" Sam asked as the waiter replaced their empty beer bottles with full ones.

"It's true. I was an artist, a terrible, terrible artist," Sarah answered, laughing. "It's why I'm in the auction business. And you were pre-law?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"But you didn't go to law school. How come?" Sarah inquired.

Sam flushed and looked away, toying with his beer bottle. "Uh, it's a really long story for another time."

Sarah smiled, but didn't push. "You're not like any art dealer I've ever met."

Sam looked at her. "So, what'd you mean when you said you hadn't been on a date in a while? You tryin' to make me feel like I'm not such a loser?" he teased.

Sarah giggled. "I'm sure you're many things, Sam. I'm also sure "loser" isn't one of them." He smiled, but her smile faded slightly. "It was my mom," she explained. "She died about a year ago - totally unexpected. It really threw me. I went into this shell - a nice, warm, safe shell. But lately, I've been thinking. It's not what she would have wanted for me, so…" and she trailed off, but it was obvious by Sam's expression that he could easily relate. "So, what about you? You're a reasonably attractive guy."

Sam laughed. "Reasonably?" he repeated, bemused.

"Why haven't you been out and about?" she asked, but Sam's smile faded, and he remained silent, obviously thinking of his own mom and Jessica. "Another long story for another time?" she asked and he nodded.

* * *

A/N: And that is it. Now I just have to upload this and pounce on my nephew before he pulls my hair out. R&R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: BURNING TIME

Supernatural: Provenance

A/N: Happy Halloween! It's not everyday that I get to post an chapter on the same day as Halloween, but I got lucky this time. Interesting fact, it was during Halloween that I first started writing my Supernatural fanfics, and that was about three years ago now.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or from _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: BURNING TIME**

Several hours later, Dean was sitting on the bed, sharpening a knife, and Liz was sitting next to him; Sam was sitting in a chair, researching.

"So, she just handed the providences over to you?" Dean asked.

"Provenances," Sam corrected, slightly annoyed; ever since he got back from having dinner with Sarah, Dean had been bugging him for details until Liz threatened to make him spend the rest of the night locked in a closest, and that shut him up for a few minutes at least.

"Pro-provenances?" Dean repeated, finally getting the word right, although it looked as if he strained something doing it.

Sam nodded, going through the copies. "Yes. I went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers."

"And?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "And nothing, that's it. I left."

"You didn't have to con her or do any special favors or anything?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam requested, exasperated and Dean laughed until Liz elbowed him in the ribs.

"You know, when this whole thing is done, we could stick around for a little bit," Dean suggested after glaring at his twin.

Sam didn't understand. "Why?"

"So you can take her out again," Dean stated. "It's obvious you're into her, even I can see that." And Liz nodded.

"I've noticed that, too, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes and then straightened up in his chair. "Hey, all right, I think I got somethin' here."

Dean closed up his switchblade as he and Liz both came over to look at the research, and Sam handed him the provenances.

Dean read from the top paper. "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family painted in 1910."

"Now, compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal," Sam requested.

Both Dean and Liz sat down near a small table that their dad's journal was lying open on, and he read the first name.

"First purchased in 1912 to Peter Simms." And looked at where Liz was pointing to a text in the journal. "Peter Simms murdered in 1912." He looked at the other papers. "Same thing in 1945." And then he read the last name. "Huh. Same thing in 1970."

"Then stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it," Sam explained. "So, what do you think, it's haunted or cursed?"

Dean shrugged. "Either way, it's toast."

"I'll bring marshmallows," Liz joked and both Dean and Sam laughed.

* * *

It was now after midnight; Dean jumped over the gate, followed by both Liz and Sam.

Outside the front door, Sam carefully took apart the alarm system and disarmed it.

"Go ahead."

Dean picked the lock, unlocked the door, opened it, and they entered.

* * *

Once inside, the Winchesters looked around, flashlights in hand, but they couldn't see the painting at first. Dean shined his light on the upper level of the auction house and saw the portrait; they hurried up the stairs. Once there, Dean took out his knife, which he flipped open, and cut the painting out of its frame.

* * *

The Winchesters then drove to an empty field, where Liz placed the painting on the ground, Sam soaked it through with gasoline and salt, and Dean lighted a match.

"Ugly-ass thing," he muttered. "If you ask me, we're doin' the art world a favor."

"I agree fully with that, Dean," Liz remarked, thoroughly creeped out by the sight of the painting.

Nodding, he threw the match onto the painting, and they all watched it go up in flames.

Little did the Winchesters know; even as it burned into ashes before them, the painting was now regenerating itself in its frame, and it wasn't long before it had fully restored itself.

* * *

The next morning, as both Liz and Sam were packing, when Dean came out of the bathroom, frantic.

"We've got a problem, I can't find my wallet," he announced.

"How is that our problem?" Sam asked, exchanging a confused look with Liz.

Dean glared at his siblings as he grabbed his jacket and searched the pockets frantically. "'Cause I think I dropped it in the warehouse last night."

Now both Sam and Liz were outright worried. "You're kidding, right?"

Dean shook his head and pulled on his jacket. "Yeah, it's got my prints, my ID - well, my fake ID, anyway," he explained. "Plus that credit card that the BAU gave us. We've gotta get it before somebody else finds it, come on." And he left.

* * *

It wasn't long before Dean, Liz, and Sam were looking around the various displays hurriedly. None of them wanted another encounter with Daniel Baker.

"How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked and his big brother just shrugged; they were still searching when Sarah came into the room and noticed them.

"Hey, guys."

Caught off guard, Sam quickly put a piece of art down and tried to act nonchalant. "Sarah! Hey."

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked, walking over.

"Uh, we-we're leaving town," Sam stammered, "and you know, we came to say goodbye."

"Oh, what are you talkin' about, Sam? We're stickin' around for at least another day or two," Dean said causally, leaving, Liz, Sam, and Sarah confused. "Oh, Sam, by the way, I wanted to give you that twenty bucks I owe you," he added and took out his wallet from his back pocket. Seeing this, Sam was instantly annoyed and frustrated while Liz had a pained expression on her face.

"I'm always forgettin'." Dean laughed and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, trying to keep a straight face. "There ya go," he said and Sam, still annoyed by being tricked, took the money. "Well, we'll leave you two crazy kids alone. Liz and I gotta go do something… somewhere." Grinning outright, he grabbed Liz's arm and walked away while Sarah winked at him.

"You can be a real jerk sometimes, Dean," Liz hissed, pulling her arm free and slugged his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me so that I could've help out?"

Dean just gave her a hurt look as he gingerly rubbed his shoulder._ 'Man, she can sure hit hard when she's angry.'_

* * *

"So…" Sam said nervously.

Sarah smiled. "I had a good time last night."

Sam nodded and relaxed slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did, too."

"Maybe we should do it again sometime," Sarah suggested.

Sam sighed wistfully. "You know, I'd love to. I really would, but Dean - he was just screwin' around. We really are takin' off today."

Sarah was disappointed. "Oh. Well, that's too bad."

Just then, Sam saw a worker carrying out the painting he, Liz, and Dean burned the night before. "Oh, my God!" he gasped, shocked.

"What?" Sarah asked, confused.

'_How can it be back in that damn frame?!'_ "Uh…that painting…looks _so_ good," Sam stammered.

Sarah raised her eyebrows and glanced at the painting. "If you can call that monstrosity good, then, yeah, I guess."

"So, what do you know about that painting?" Sam asked quickly, wondering how it was possible for the painting to be intact after burning it last night.

"Not much, just that it creeps me out," Sarah answered. "We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered."

Sam nodded, worried. "Yeah, and now, you're just gonna sell it again?"

"As much as my dad wants to, no," Sarah informed him and was internally wishing that she could destroy the painting herself. "I won't let him. I think it'd be in bad taste."

"Good," Sam agreed. "Yeah, you know what? Don't, don't, make sure you don't, okay?"

Sarah was confused. "Why? Don't tell me you're interested in that."

"No, no, God, no, not in buying it, no," Sam protested, dreading the thought. "You know what? I gotta go, I've gotta take care of something. But I will call you back. I will call you. I'll see you later."

"Wait, so, you're not leaving tonight?" Sarah asked, surprised.

Sam shrugged. "No, I guess not. See ya." And he quickly left.

Sarah watched him go, bemused. "Okay…"

* * *

Shaken by the sight of the restored painting, the Winchesters got in the Impala.

Sam was freaking out. "I don't understand, Dean, Liz, we burned the damn thing."

"Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious," Dean said sarcastically. "All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?"

Sam thought quickly. "Okay, all right, well, um…in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the painting's subject that haunts them."

Dean nodded, that made sense. "Yeah? All right, so, we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy-ass family in that creepy-ass painting. What were their names again?"

* * *

The Winchesters went to the local library, and were lucky to find a librarian, who was quick to find what they needed, and was now speaking very quickly. "You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's right."_ 'Just how much coffee has this guy been drinking?'_

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find," the librarian told them. "So, uh, are you guys crime buffs?"

"Kind of. Why do you ask?" Dean asked, flipping through a book on old-fashion handguns and had paused on a page that had a picture of a Colt on it.

"Well…" the librarian held up a page from an old newspaper; the main headline was about the sinking of the Titanic, but the headline he was pointing to read, "Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self".

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds about right," Dean agreed, exchanging a look with Liz; a murder would explain the haunted painting.

"The whole family was killed?" Sam asked.

The librarian nodded. "It seems this Isaiah - he slits his kids' throats, then his wife, then himself," he answered. "Now, he was a barber by trade - used a straight razor."

"Why'd he do it?" Liz asked.

"Well, let's look." And he turned the newspaper around to read the article. "Uh, "people who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist." Wife, two sons, adopted daughter - yeah, yeah - there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know, in that day and age…so, instead, Old Man Isaiah - well, he gave them all a shave." And made a shaving gesture with his hand and laughed. Dean chuckled, but Sam and Liz didn't find it funny in the slightest.

"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Dean asked, wincing at the glare his siblings were giving him.

The librarian shrugged. "It just says they were all cremated."

Dean, Liz, and Sam all exchange an annoyed look. With no body to burn, this was going to be even harder.

"Anything else?" Sam asked.

The librarian put the newspaper down and picked up a large book. "Yeah. Actually, I found a picture of the family. It's right here somewhere." He flipped to the right page and turned so that the Winchesters could see. "Right. Here it is."

The picture in the book was the same from the painting, except in the book's photo, Isaiah was looking straight ahead while in the painting they'd tried to burn he was looking down at his daughter. Sam noticed this.

"Hey, could we get a copy of this, please?" he requested.

The librarian nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Meanwhile at the Auction House, Daniel Blake watched as two workers packed the painting in a box.

Seeing this, Sarah went up to him. "Dad, you promised you wouldn't sell that painting," she exclaimed, worried.

Daniel didn't even looked at her and nodded. "I know, sweetie, but Evelyn's offered a persuasive amount of money."

Sarah glared at her father, disgusted that he would break a promise like that. "You're shameless, you know that?"

Daniel looked at his daughter, but it was obvious that he didn't care in the slightest. "For that kind of money, I can afford to be." And he walked away, leaving his frustrated daughter behind.

* * *

Unaware that the painting had a new owner, the Winchesters were sitting at the table back in their motel room, talking.

"I'm telling you, man, I'm sure of it," Sam stated, looking at the copied photo. "Painting at the auction house, Dad is lookin' down. Painting here, Dad's lookin' out. The painting has changed, Dean, Liz."

"I believe it," Liz agreed. "And that alone makes that painting even creepier."

Dean also had to agree. "All right, so, you think Daddy Dearest is trapped in the painting? He's handin' out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna stop him?"

Dean looked at the photo from the book and frowned; with no human remains to burn, stopping the spirit inside the painting wasn't going to be easy. "All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well," he suggested. "It could give us some clues."

Sam frowned. "What, like a DaVinci Code deal?"

Liz sighed. "Shame we don't have a real Robert Langdon to help us out right now," she said wistfully.

"I don't know, I'm still waitin' for the movie on that one," Dean mumbled; he'd tried to read the book at Liz's request, but kept falling asleep. "Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting. Which is a good thing because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend," he added slightly and went to lie down on the bed.

"Dude, enough already," Sam protested while Liz snickered. "And you be quiet, Liz."

"No," Liz retorted, grinning as she retreated to the other bed to avoid Sam throwing a wad of paper at her head. "Miss!"

"What?" Dean asked, also grinning; it wasn't that often that both he and Liz got to yank Sam's chain like this.

Sam glared at them both in a _very_ exasperated manner. ""What?" Ever since we got here, you've been tryin' to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right?"

"Well, you like her, don't you?" Dean asked, Sam didn't respond, but it was obvious by his flustered expression that he did. "All right, you like her, she likes you, and you're both consenting adults…"

Sam sighed, giving up. "What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave. We always leave."

Dean gave him a hurt look. "Well, I'm not talkin' about marriage, Sam."

"You know what, I don't get it. What do you care if I hook up?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Because then maybe you wouldn't be so cranky all the time." Sam scoffed, and he sat up. "You know, seriously, Sam, this isn't about just hookin' up, okay? I mean, I think this Sarah girl could be good for you," he explained. "And I don't mean any disrespect, but I'm sure that this is about Jessica, right?" and it was obvious from their little brother's expression that he was on the right track. "Now, I don't know what it's like to lose somebody like that, but…I would think that she would want you to be happy." He could see that Sam was close to tears. "God forbid, have fun once in a while. Wouldn't she?" and then a faint smile came and that was a good start.

"Yeah, I know she would," Sam admitted, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. Part of this is about Jessica. But not the main part."

Dean and Liz exchanged a look. What _was_ the main part? "What's it about?" Sam said nothing. "Yeah, all right." Dean leaned back on the bed. "Well, we still gotta see that painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah, so…"

Sam nodded and sighed again; he picked up his phone and dialed her number. "Sarah, hey. It's Sam," he said when she answered and listened. "Hey, hi. Good, good, yeah, um, what about you?" he nodded. "Yeah, good, good, really good."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Smooth," he grumbled and then yelped when Liz threw a pillow at him, prompting a pillow fight.

"So, listen, me, my sister, and my brother were thinking that maybe we'd like to come back in and look at the painting again," he suggested, ignoring the ensuring battle. "I think maybe we are interested in buying it," he added and then paused when Sarah spoke. "What?" he listened again. "Who'd you sell it to?" he asked, getting the attention of his siblings as he stood up, worried. "Sarah, I need an address _right now_."

Dean and Liz exchanged concerned looks as they dropped their pillows and sprang for their jackets; this _wasn't_ a good sign.

* * *

A/N: In case anyone misses it, I put a reference to the Colt in this chapter on purpose since it'll be showing up in the next story. Happy Halloween! R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: TWO EVIL SPIRITS?

Supernatural: Provenance

A/N: I return with the next chapter! I really hope everyone has been enjoying the story, especially with Dean and Liz teasing Sam about his crush on Sarah.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or from _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE: **_**TWO**_** EVIL SPIRITS? **

That night, Evelyn, an older woman, was sitting in her living room, reading a book; above her fireplace the painting of the Merchant family was hanging. While she was reading, Isaiah's head moved very slightly; unaware of this, Evelyn set her book down, took off her reading glasses, and picked up a cup of tea.

While she was drinking, a shadow moved across the room, razor in hand, in the reflection of Evelyn's glasses. Evelyn set her cup down and sat in silence for a moment; she felt someone next to her, she looked up and screamed.

* * *

It wasn't long before the Winchesters pulled up and got out of the car; Sarah was already there, standing by her own car.

"Sam, what's happening?" she asked.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come," Sam said as they ran up the front steps.

"Hello? Anybody home?" Dean called out, banging on the front door, which was locked.

"You said Evelyn might be in danger," Sarah stated. "What kind of danger?"

Dean tested the door and growled. "I can't knock this sucker down. I gotta pick it." And he began picking the lock. Confused by all of this, Sarah walked over to Sam and Liz, who were trying unsuccessfully to open the windows.

"What are you guys, burglars?" she asked.

"I wish it was that simple," Sam muttered, just as Dean got the door open. "Look, you really should wait in the car, it's for your own good," he suggested as he, Liz and Dean entered the house.

Sarah scowled. "The hell I will, Evelyn's a friend." And she followed them inside.

* * *

The four of them entered the living room.

"Evelyn?"

"Evelyn?"

"Hello?"

Soon, they saw Evelyn seated in her chair and move cautiously toward her; the painting over her fireplace had resumed its usual position, and Isaiah was now looking down at his daughter again.

"Evelyn? Evelyn?" Sarah asked as they moved closer to the chair. "It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?" and she put her hand on Evelyn's shoulder.

"Sarah, don't. Sarah!" Sam protested, but it was too late.

Evelyn's head tilted back, revealing her slashed throat. Sarah screamed and looked at the painting, where Isaiah was now looking straight ahead, and even Liz screamed, having seen his head move.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" Sarah cried as Sam took her out of the room, and Dean shoved Liz after them.

* * *

The sun was rising outside and Dean was sitting at the laptop with Liz sitting next to him, and looking only half-awake while Sam was pacing. There was a knock at the door and he answered it.

"Hey," he said, letting Sarah into the room. "You all right?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, actually. I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that."

Sam was relieved. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Sarah snapped. "I'm about to call 'em right back if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. Who's killing these people?"

Sam, Liz, and Dean exchanged a look.

"What," Sam said.

Sarah didn't understand. "What?"

"It's not who, it's what is killing these people," Sam explained while Sarah shook her head, obviously confused. "Sarah, you saw that painting move."

"No. No, I was seeing things," Sarah protested. "It's impossible."

"I wish," Liz moaned.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, well, welcome to our world."

Sam sighed. "Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that the painting is haunted."

"You're joking," Sarah said, tears forming in her eyes, but when Sam didn't say anything, she gulped. "You're not joking. God, the guys I go out with," she moaned.

"Sarah, think about it - Evelyn, the Telescas," Sam said. "They both had the painting, and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just tryin' to stop it. And that's the truth."

Sarah sighed. "Well, then, I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you."

Sam panicked. "What? No. Sarah, no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and-" he paused, even though it was obvious to both Liz and Dean why he was acting like this "-and I don't want you to get hurt."

"Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this - well, me and my dad sold that painting, we might have gotten these people killed," Sarah stated. "I'm not saying I'm not scared, 'cause I am scared as hell, but I'm not gonna run and hide, either." And she walked to the door. "So, are we going or what?" she asked before leaving.

Dean and Liz exchanged a bemused look; okay, they were seriously impressed with Sarah.

"Sam?" Dean said, leading Sam, who'd been gaping at the door, to look at him. "Marry that girl," he ordered, making Liz laugh and Sam rolled his eyes.

* * *

Returning to the crime scene, Sarah waited as the Winchesters got the front door open.

"Uh, isn't this a crime scene?" she asked uncertainly.

"Well, you've already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?" Dean joked as he broke the police seal on the door with his knife.

* * *

Sam took the painting down from the wall and leaned it against a chair; he, Liz, and Dean began examining it.

"Aren't you worried that it's gonna, you know, kill us?" Sarah asked, keeping her distance from the painting.

"No, it seems to do its thing at night," Sam said reassuringly. "I think we're all right in daylight."

Meanwhile, Dean and Liz were comparing the real painting with the photo from the library book.

"Sam, check it out," he said, noticing something and he handed the photo to their little brother. "The razor - it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one." And indicated the painting.

"What are you guys looking for?" Sarah asked.

"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason," Dean explained.

Sam looked between the painting and the photo, finding something else that was different. "Hey, look at this - the painting in the painting."

In the photo from the library book, Isaiah was standing in front of a painting of mountains, while in the real painting, he was standing in front of a picture of a building.

Liz squinted at the painting. "Looks like a crypt or a mausoleum or something."

Dean grabbed an ashtray from a nearby table and held it up to the painting; inscribed on the building in the painting was a name. "Merchant."

* * *

Several hours later, the four of them were walking around, looking for the Merchant mausoleum.

"That's the third bone yard we've checked," Dean complained. "I think this ghost is jerkin' us around."

"So, this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked.

Sam chuckled. "Not exactly. We don't get paid."

Sarah could believe that. "Well, Mazel Tov."

Just then, Dean spotted the building. "Over there." And they walked over to the mausoleum.

Dean, Liz, Sam, and Sarah entered the cobweb-covered chamber; the walls were lined with urns, and Sarah walked over to a glass case preserving a doll.

"Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," she stated.

"It was sort of a tradition at the time," Sam explained. "Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case right next to the headstone in a crypt."

Both Dean and Liz were examining the urns and noticed that something was off about the scene. "You notice anything strange here?"

Sarah scoffed as she looked around. "Uh, where do I start?"

"No, that's not what I mean," Dean said. "Look at the urns."

Sam examined the urns. "Yeah, there are only four."

"Yeah, Mom and the three kids," Dean agreed. "Daddy Dearest isn't here."

"So, where is he?" Sam wondered.

* * *

After returning to the town, Sarah and Sam were waiting outside the local police station for Dean and Liz, who were inside.

"So, what exactly is your brother and sister doing in there?" Sarah asked.

"Searching county death certificates, trying to find out what happened to Isaiah's body," Sam answered.

Sarah frowned. "How'd they even get in the door?"

"Lying and subterfuge, mostly," Sam responded and they laughed. "You have a, um - you have an eyelash on your…" he gestured and she touched her eye. "No, uh, no." and they laughed again. "Do you mind if I…?"

Sarah shook her head. "No."

Sam smiled nervously. "Okay." He gently removed the eyelash from her eye and held it out on his finger. "Make a wish."

Sarah smiled and blew the eyelash off his finger. "Sam, can I ask you something?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"I don't mean to be forward, but a girl can wait here forever," Sarah stated and they laughed. "Is there something here, between us, or am I delusional?" she asked.

Sam sighed, he'd been dreading that she would ask him a question like that. "You're not delusional."

Sarah gave him an inquiring look. "But, there's a "but" coming."

"But…" Sam confirmed. "I don't think this would be a good idea."

Sarah didn't understand. "Can I ask why?"

"'Cause I like you," Sam answered.

Sarah shook her head, confused. "Wait…you lost me." And she laughed.

Sam sighed, wondering how he was going to explain. "Look it's hard to explain…it's just that when people are around me…I don't know, they get hurt."

"What do you mean?" Sarah inquired.

"I mean, like, physically hurt. With what my brother, my sister and I do, it's-" Sam stopped, having trouble with the words "-Sarah…I had a girlfriend," he said finally and she nodded. "And she died," he continued. "And my mom died, too. I don't know, it's like…it's like I'm cursed or something - like death just follows me around. Look, I'm not scared of much, but if I let myself have feelings for anybody-"

"You're scared they'd get hurt, too," Sarah finished and Sam nodded. "That's very sweet. And very archaic."

"Sorry?" Sam asked.

Sarah chuckled. "Look, I'm a big girl, Sam," she explained. "It's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt."

"I'm not talkin' about a broken heart and a tub of Haagen-Dazs," Sam protested. "I'm talkin' about life and death."

"And tomorrow, I could get hit by a bus," Sarah stated. "That's what life is. Look, I know losing somebody you love - it's terrible. You shut yourself off, believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else, too."

Sam shook his head, not liking where this was going. "Look, Sarah, you don't understand. The pain that I went through - I can't go through it again. I can't." And they shared a long look, soon interrupted by Dean and Liz.

"Are we interrupting something?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Not at all," Sarah agreed.

"Apparently," Dean remarked, wincing when Liz elbowed him.

"So, what'd you get?" Sam asked.

"Pay dirt," Dean answered and he read from a few papers in his hand. "Apparently, the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they handed him over to the county. The county gave him a pauper's funeral - economy-style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box."

Sam knew what this meant. "So, there are bones to burn?"

Both Dean and Liz nodded. "There are bones to burn."

"Tell me you know where," Sam said and the twins smiled at them. They knew where to go.

* * *

That night, they returned to the cemetery, found the grave, and soon, Dean, Liz, and Sam were digging up Isaiah's grave while Sarah held a flashlight; as they got closer, Sam climbed out of the dirt and stood next to her.

"You guys seem to be uncomfortably comfortable with this," Sarah remarked.

"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?" Sam asked, smiling.

"I think we got somethin'," Dean announced, and Sarah held the flashlight over them so that they could see; they used the shovels to break open Isaiah's tomb, where Isaiah's bones were lying.

Soon the Winchesters poured rock salt and gasoline over the bones.

"You've been a real pain in the ass, Isaiah," Dean stated as he lighted a match. "Good riddance." He threw the match into the grave, and the four of them watched the bones go up in flames.

* * *

A few hours later, the Winchesters and Sarah pulled up outside the house.

"Keep the motor running," Sam told Dean.

Sarah didn't understand why they had returned to the mansion. "I thought the painting was harmless now."

"Better safe than sorry," Sam told her. "We're gonna bury the sucker." And he got out.

"I wanna come with you," Sarah said.

"You sure?" Sam asked, surprised.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah." And she got out of the car as well.

"Hey, hey, hey. We'll stay here, you go make your move," Dean whispered and Sam scoffed. "Sam, I'm serious."

Rolling his eyes, Sam shut the car door, and both he and Sarah walked up the front steps of the building. Dean turned on the radio, playing a love song, which made Liz snickered, and Sam glared at him; Dean shrugged, and Sam motioned for him to stop the music. Sighing, Dean reluctantly shut it off, and both Sarah and Sam went inside.

* * *

Entering the room, both Sam and Sarah stared at the painting, confused.

"Uh, Sam? You're the expert on all this ghost stuff. Is that painting supposed to look like that?" she asked; although Isaiah was now facing forward, his daughter had vanished from the painting. "Where's the little girl?"

But that wasn't the only thing missing, the straight razor was also gone.

"And the razor?" Sam added, equally confused.

From somewhere in the house, they could hear a little girl laughing; they looked around frantically, and the front door slammed shut.

* * *

A/N: I now curse you all with an evil cliffy! MWAHAHAHAHA! R&R everyone!


	4. Chapter 4: KISSING TIME!

Supernatural: Provenance

A/N: I'm back with the final chapter and you'll learn the fate of Sam and Sarah. "smiles evilly"

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or from _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

**CHAPTER FOUR: KISSING TIME! **

* * *

Seeing the door slam shut suddenly, both Dean and Liz ran up the steps and they tried to break the door down, but failed.

* * *

Inside, Sam ran to the door. "Dean! Liz! Hey! Is that you?"

_`"Yeah, you all right?"`_ Dean asked.

* * *

Instead of talking through the door, Sam called Dean on his cell phone, and he picked up.

"Tell me you slammed the front door," Dean begged.

_`"No, it wasn't me,"`_ Sam responded. _`"I think it was the little girl."`_

"The girl? What girl?" Dean asked, putting his phone on speaker so that Liz could listen in.

"What're you talking about, Sam?" Liz asked.

Sam quickly explained. _`"Yeah, she's out of the painting. I think it might have been her all along."`_

Dean and Liz both frowned, recalling something. "Wasn't the dad lookin' down at her? Maybe he was tryin' to warn 'em."

_`"Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later, all right? Just get us out of here,"`_ Sam requested.

Dean handed the phone to Liz and worked on the lock. "Well, I'm tryin' to pick the lock, but the door won't budge."

_`"Well, then, break it down."`_

"Okay, genius, let me grab my battering ram," Dean said sarcastically.

_`"Dean, the damn thing is comin'!"`_ Sam yelped.

Dean and Liz exchanged a look; that wasn't a good sign. "Well, you're gonna have to hold it off until we figure somethin' out. Get some salt or iron."

* * *

Sam nodded and turned to Sarah. "Come on." And they started tearing the house apart, looking frantically.

Having failed to find any salt, Sam rejoined Sarah in the adjacent room.

"What kind of house doesn't have salt? Low-sodium freaks," he complained, pressing his phone to his ear. "Hey, you find any iron?" he asked.

Sarah shook her head. "No, what's it for?"

"Iron repels evil spirits, but it's gotta be pure. Hurry!" Sam ordered. "Uh, Dean, Liz, give me a sec, don't go anywhere."

* * *

Outside, both Dean and Liz were still trying unsuccessfully to break down the door.

* * *

Inside the house, Sam and Sarah were looking around the living room.

"Look under the chairs, sometimes the seats…" Sam began.

Suddenly, the rest of the doors in the house slammed shut; papers scattered everywhere. Isaiah's daughter slowly entered the room; she was holding the razor in her right hand and was dragging her doll with the other.

"Sam?" Sarah whimpered as she and Sam tried to back away from the girl, who was walking closer to them. "That is _so_ wrong," she moaned.

The girl kept walking towards them and Sam backed into a display of fireplace pokers; he picked one up and, just as the girl's head began shaking and twitching, he hit her with it, and she dissolved into smoke.

"Iron?" Sarah asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

_`"Sammy, you okay?"`_ Dean asked, worried.

_`"Talk to us, Sam,"`_ Liz requested.

"Yeah, for now," Sam confirmed.

_`"How we gonna waste her?"`_ Dean asked.

Sam was still trying to figure that out. "I don't know," he admitted. "She was already cremated. There's nothin' left to burn."

_`"Well, then, how's she still around?"`_ Liz asked.

Sam didn't know. "There must be somethin' else."

"Sam, wait," Sarah said, suddenly recalling something. "We used to handle antique dolls at the auction."

"Well, that's fascinating, Sarah, but important right now?" Sam asked.

"Well, back then, they used to make the dolls in the kid's image, I mean, everything, like, they would use the kid's real hair," Sarah explained.

"Dean? Sarah says the doll might have the girl's hair," Sam reported. "Human remains - same as bones. The mausoleum."

* * *

Dean hang up and both he and Liz ran to the car.

* * *

Inside the house, the lights suddenly went out, and both Sam and Sarah looked around warily.

* * *

Soon the Winchester twins had the car barreling through the gate and they speeded through the cemetery.

* * *

A writing desk suddenly moved on its own and pinned Sam to the ground, causing him to lose his grip on the iron poker; Sarah rushed over to try to shove it off.

"Sam! Come on! Push! Come on!" she pleaded, but the desk wouldn't budge; she turned, and the little girl was standing before her.

* * *

Not bothering to turn the engine off, both Dean and Liz got out of the car and entered the mausoleum. Once inside, they found the glass case holding the doll and tried to break it open; he used his gun to try and smash it, but it didn't work. He thought for a second, and then realized he was holding a _gun_.

"Come on, Dean!" Liz snapped.

Rolling his eyes, Dean shot the glass case and broke through it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sarah was being thrown against the wall by the little girl.

* * *

Dean took the doll out of the glass case.

* * *

Stunned, Sarah watched, unmoving, as the little girl moved towards her.

* * *

Dean was trying to light the doll's hair on fire, but the lighter wouldn't work.

"Come on, come on!"

* * *

The little girl moved closer to Sarah as Sam kept trying to move the desk off of his legs.

* * *

Dean finally lit the doll's hair, and the doll went up in flames as he dropped it to the ground.

* * *

Just as the girl raised the razor, Sam yelled and tackled Sarah out of the way. Suddenly, the girl burst into flame and disappeared; a second later, she reappeared in the painting, next to Isaiah.

* * *

Both Dean and Liz watched the burnt doll on the ground, and then he called Sam, who picked up.

"Sam, you good?"

* * *

Sprawled on the floor, Sam looked at Sarah, whose lip was bleeding and was sitting next to him. "Not bad."

* * *

Relieved to hear that, Dean hanged up and they both left the tomb.

* * *

Both Sam and Sarah laid on the floor, exhausted. At last, the nightmare was finally over.

* * *

The next day, two workers were packing the painting in a box. Both Dean and Liz walked up to Sarah and Sam, and he was holding a piece of paper.

"This was archived in the county records," he told them. "The Merchants adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds."

"She killed them?" Sarah asked, surprised.

"Yeah, who'd suspect her, a sweet little girl?" Dean remarked. "So, then she kills Isaiah and his family, the old man takes the blame - spirit's been tryin' to warn people ever since."

"Where does this one go?" one of the workers asked.

"Take it out back and burn it," Sarah ordered, she wasn't going to take any chances with the creepy thing, and they stared at her, confused. "I'm serious, guys. Thanks." Shrugging, the workers carried the box away. "So, why'd the girl do it?"

"Killin' others, killin' herself - some people are just born tortured," Sam guessed. "So, when they die, their spirits are just as dark."

Liz nodded. "And that girl was definitely dark."

"Maybe," Dean agreed. "I don't really care. It's over, we move on."

Sarah laughed awkwardly. "I guess this means you're leaving."

Sam shrugged and looked at both Dean and Liz, and they were all silent for a minute.

"We'll go wait in the car," Dean said, nodding to Liz. "See ya, Sarah." Sarah nodded and smiled at him and Liz, and they walked away, with him talking to himself.

"I'm the one who burned the doll, destroyed the spirit, but don't thank me or anything," he grumbled as they left, and Liz just grinned.

Sarah looked at Sam wistfully. "There are a million things that I want to say to you, but for the life of me, I can't think of one."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I'll miss you, too."

"You know, there's a lesson in all of this," Sarah commented.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"We all got through this in one piece," Sarah remarked. "I didn't get hurt."

Sam nodded, she was right. "Yeah, I'm glad for that."

Sarah smiled. "So, maybe you're not cursed," she suggested. "Maybe…maybe you'll come back and see me."

Sam nodded again, slowly this time. "I will."

* * *

Outside, both Dean and Liz were waiting for Sam by the car. Soon, Sam came outside and walked over to them.

* * *

Inside the auction house, Sarah shut the door behind him and leaned up against it; she waited there, silently and sadly. After a moment, there was a knock on the door; surprised, she opened it.

Sam came in and kissed her passionately; they broke off after a moment, she then smiled and kissed him back.

Seeing this, Liz grinned and nudged Dean, who turned and saw them; he smiled too.

"That's my boy," he said with approval, and they got into the car to wait while Sam and Sarah continued to kiss.

While waiting, Liz turned on the radio, lowering the sound and caught a news report about a serial killer down in Mexico being captured by the combined effort of the local police, the FBI, and some of the local women. "Hmm, must be the case that the BAU were working on," she remarked.

Dean nodded. "Sounds like it." They listened to the report and burst out laughing when they learned that the killer had been a man, who was dressed as a woman, and the local women that'd helped captured him, had beaten him up, and had castrated him in the process. "OMG!"

"Now the guy's a _real_ woman!"

* * *

A/N: So, when the Winchesters were dealing with the haunted picture, the BAU went down to Mexico in the season 1 episode _Machismo_, where a man had gone from raping women to targeting his former victims' mothers, and had been wearing a dress every time; right before the BAU and the local police caught up to him, his former victims got to him first and made sure that he wouldn't be able to go after them ever again by taking away his manhood, and the local DA praised them for their good work. One of my favorite episodes.

R&R everyone!


End file.
